| Uh, acidic, a bunch of bad habits with bad magic
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| I can’t disappear and re-appear in the same sentence, I’m bad at it
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| The Mad Hatter, the pump-packer, the mob thrasher
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| The purp mixed with the syrup turn me into a contractor
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| I straight freak, so high I can’t speak
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| Been three weeks, I still haven’t met my peak
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| Like I could be someone other than myself
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| Like I could find a little heaven up in my hell
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| Yeah, I know it never, ever end well
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| Yeah, I know I always fall victim to a wish spell, uh
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| Like abracadabra
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| The flow so raw, forgot to grab magnums
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| Been raw-dogging bitches ever since I went platinum
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| I feel like hell full of bad bitches
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| Wonder if there’s room in heaven for savages
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| My life’s a canvas, I’m painting in blood like a cannibal
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| Rip off his head and I salvage it
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| Huh, a little too graphic
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| At least you niggas know that I still got the passion
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| As someone who ain’t got shit but the clothes on they back
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| And it’s been that way since way back since
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| Like I’m a killer or something
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| These niggas lip-syncing like Milli Vanilli or something
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| I’m like Lil Wayne, I got a Milli-Milli-Milli or something
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| I guess I’m rich and broke, pockets bountiful
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| My soul’s, empty, so deep, 10 feet
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| Times 10 feet
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| Fuck love, it’s gon' take more to convince me
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| That you with me
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| And not against me
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| Where I’m from we load it up
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| Pop out and turn niggas into mince meat |